Notable
by ChocoTaco
Summary: It was inevitable. It always had been, and they knew it. It was just a matter of when and where. Short. Somewhat angsty fluff. RikuxSora. Featuring musician!Riku and confused!Sora.


**A/N:** So, this was written for a fic/art swap I'm doing with the lovely **jeansama**. Who pretty much owns.

I really like this one. I used a somewhat different writing style, less narrative and more descriptive. I like the effect, except that it seems somewhat less personal, I think.

There are a few random things in here that I really like, such as the fact that Sora has a key to Riku's house and of course, the fact that Riku plays piano. Hehehe.

Also, there are three piano parts described here. The first one isn't from any song, I just imagine Riku made it up. It symbolizes his hunger for chaos and destruction, even as a child. (I'm a big fan of symbolism.) If you're curious about the other two for whatever reason... the second one is from "Dearly Beloved" (you know, Yoko Shimomura) and the last one (when the song "changes") is from "Gravity" by Vienna Teng (I also stole a line from that song for this, hehe.). You should definitely listen to those songs while reading the corresponding parts of the fanfic. That'd make me happy. XD

That is all!

Fictionally yours,  
Kaci

* * *

Somewhere, deep down in a memory buried beneath heaps of stunning, shining new worlds, complicated battle tactics, and confusing, repressed emotions, there lay a single, solitary moment, clear as day. Sora could almost feel it. The way the notes had sounded all mashed together and chaotic, but very gorgeously and decidedly so. The way he had watched in awe, trying to trace a pattern in the wildly dancing fingers as they twinkled on the battered old keys, a melody emerging proud and strong. The way his voice had almost trembled as when he asked Riku, barely older than seven, what he was playing. The way his whole being had trembled when Riku looked up at him, something alarmingly different flashing in his wide eyes as he spoke one word, very simply, his voice escaping like a cold rush.

"_Deconstruction._"

It was a moment that Sora hadn't reflected on in years, but he saw it vividly in his mind now as he stood behind his friend, watching as the dim light of the living room picture window played on the silver hair falling down his back, that back that twisted and arched the very same way it had nine years ago on that very same bench before that very same ancient piano. The music, however, was strikingly different, a testament to how different Riku himself now was. The notes were distinct and perplexingly certain, played deliberately and accompanied by warm chords of harmony that curled out from under the cool melody, embracing it, filling the dead space around it, flowing gradually in and out like a sluggish tide. Bittersweet and hauntingly familiar.

He was entranced, enthralled by his own music, so much so that he hadn't heard the crunch of Sora's key in the lock of the front door or the dull thud as the younger boy closed it behind him. He hadn't noticed the creak of Sora's feet on the floorboards as he crept up behind him until mere feet separated them, like a cushion of all their insecurities and doubts made concrete.

Sora stood back and watched, his eyes roving over Riku's fingers, careful fingers, the fingers of an artist. Biting back more thoughts of those fingers and their other capabilities, he tried to force his mind into more innocent territory. After all, this was _Riku_, not a girl, not someone he was interested in romantically whatsoever. Nuh-uh. Not at all. It was stupid, he thought, just a trick of the light and the music. But then the rhythmic sway of Riku's hips caught his eye, and he had to avert his gaze, lest he completely lose his composure and tackle the poor boy to the floor and God knows what else.

_Stop that. Stop that right now._

He slapped himself mentally. This was all far too strange. Who the hell did Riku think he was, anyway? What right did he have to completely fuck with Sora's mind like that?

With that, a devious grin overtook his face and a plot of revenge formed in his mind.

The music played on steadily, like breath through lungs, and Sora took two steps forward, sidling up to the right side of the bench. _Ha_. A chance to scare the living shit out of Riku. What fun.

He was close now, so close that his knees almost brushed the leather seat of the bench. The song had changed now. The key was different, the notes coming now more rapidly like raindrops on a tin roof, harmonizing darker undertones arising from farther down the keyboard. But Riku continued to play obliviously, and Sora held his breath as he leaned in slowly, positioning his mouth right next the older boy's ear with every intention of screaming into it as loud as he could and watching in amusement as his friend toppled backwards off the bench in fright. But if Sora had learned anything over the years, it was that intentions, good or bad, rarely ever meant anything when it came to Riku, and as he stared at the lashes of his friend's closed eyes fanned out against his chiseled cheekbones, he found himself unable to make his voice work, unable to draw in breath to yell. He found his lips drifting instead towards the little patch of sensitive skin on the side of the silver-haired boy's jaw, and he couldn't fight it, could only move closer, could only obey Riku's law of gravity.

He failed to notice that the music had come to a complete stop.

"If you're going to kiss me, get on with it already."

Sora eyes snapped open, and he jolted back in alarm, but did not move away from the bench. One hand flew to his reddening face as he saw Riku watching him, all silver bangs and sparkling eyes and smug smirk.

"I – No – I wasn't – I – uh – " Sora said intelligently. Riku cut him off, waving a nonchalant hand through the air as if to disperse the cloud of confusion and embarrassment that had just condensed around his friend.

"Forget it," he said with a smile, sensing his friend's discomfort. He kept forgetting that Sora didn't take that kind of joke very well, and he thought he knew why, but he chose not to pursue that particular subject for now. He pressed on. "When'd you get here?"

"Um… a few minutes ago, I guess…" the brunet supplied vaguely, trying to relax. He shook himself off, gathered up his brain (which felt like it had just exploded all over Riku and his big stupid piano), and shot him a sly grin. "Long enough to hear your fruity piano playing."

Riku raised his eyebrows, looking mildly offended for a moment before releasing a haughty scoff. "Please. You know you think it's sexy."

Sora sputtered for a moment before giving a weak laugh and trying not to think about how true that probably was. Apparently he had already let on his distress, because Riku was eyeing him with concern

"Sora… you okay?"

"Yeah!" Sora said, much too quickly and just a little too harshly, and Riku would have flinched if he hadn't seen the something behind Sora's eyes that was working very hard to tell him otherwise. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sora silenced him with a violent shaking of his head. Even the strongest dams eventually must break. "No! No, I'm not okay, not at all. And I don't think I will be, not unless…"

He trailed off, and his eyes blazed a purposeful trail from Riku's eyes to his lips to his hands and back again. Something stuck in Riku's brain, and something broke in Sora's gaze.

"Sora."

As if from outside of himself, as if it was all just as abstract and unreal as the music, Sora felt himself reach down and take hold of one of Riku's hands to pull him blinking to his feet, the bench sliding backwards behind him. He didn't protest; he knew what was coming. They both did. They had for a long time, maybe forever, and it suddenly seemed so foolish that it had taken so long and so much. It had been hovering over them, just beyond their grasp, and they were stretching and reaching for it now. They were many things, many many things associated with boyish immaturity and shallowness, but blind was not one of them, and they could both clearly see that the line between friendship and the ever-present _something else_ had been growing steadily fainter and fainter through the years.

Sora heard himself speak, felt himself grab that faint little line and smash it into a thousand irretrievable pieces.

"Kiss me."

There are some moments, some instances in which everything you've ever wanted and nothing you thought you would ever have come careening at you all at once, and there's nothing to do but brace yourself and just wait for the collision. And when they do finally collide, when all the if's are turned to when's, when they smash together with all the magnificence of a lifetime culminated into one brief and shining instant, you find that the only thing to do is to let go of what you think you know and go plunging into the depths of what truly is, what's _real_ and _here_ and _now_.

Riku paused for a deep breath, and then he took the plunge.

Sora's breath hitched in his throat, and let his lips give into Riku's and his body melt into those arms. There was so much to make up for, so much lost time, and they both felt it, knew it, tried to mend it with a kiss for every one that should have been. The smaller boy could feel Riku's hands strong against his chest, and he didn't know what to do with his own, so he rested them on the piano behind him, hoping that was okay. The older boy's mouth did wonders with his own inexperienced one, and Sora let himself be overtaken, let Riku press him back against the piano, let the sigh that he had been containing escape his lungs, but at the same time he grew bolder, giving Riku's bottom lip a little bite. Riku advanced as well, roaming over the sensitive areas of Sora's neck, chest, and chin with his fingers, careful fingers, the fingers of an artist, caressing Sora's warm skin in the same loving, intimate way he had graced the ebony and ivory of the piano keys. Again Sora felt himself trembling from the inside out, and his hands slipped from the edge of the piano and onto the keyboard, feeling the keys sinking beneath them the way they sank into each other.

It was perfection. Completion.

They thought it could be love… laughable, that was.

There was no _could be_.

Only that it truly was; It was _real_ and _here_ and _now_.

Love.

* * *

_Fin._


End file.
